


Let Me Give You Some Light

by blarfkey



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Bondage, Cole pushes boundaries in the name of helping, Cole thinks he's helping, Creepy yet sweet Cole, Depressed inquisitor, Dubious Consent, F/M, Non Penetrative Sex, Post Trespasser, SUPER dubious consent, Spirit!Cole, Vaginal Sex, he doesn't understand the nuance of deeply wanting something and not letting yourself have it, look - Freeform, now with, touch starved, unnamed female inqusitior
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:28:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27195803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blarfkey/pseuds/blarfkey
Summary: “You’re hurting,” he says. “I could feel it in the Fade. I wanted to help.”Of course. She laughs, the bitterness almost burning her throat. “Unless you can turn back time, there is nothing you can fix.”“You want someone to touch you, to hold you. I can do that.”Post Trespasser, the Inquisitor finds herself stressed, lonely, and deeply touch starved after most of her friends have left to pick up the pieces of their old lives. Cole notices her suffering from across the Fade and is determined to help her. Even when things stray from the innocent to the decidedly not innocent.
Relationships: Cole/Female Inquisitor (Dragon Age)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold (manka)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/manka/gifts).



> I would NEVER have posted this originally, but it’s kinktober and several friends of mine are posting their own “spite smut” so I thought I would put out my own meager offering. Please let me know if I need to add more tags. As always, if this makes you uncomfortable, keep scrolling and don’t read it.

It starts out as a dream. A nightmare really. She’s trudging through the endless snowy void of the mountains, having dragged herself out of the ruins of Haven. Only this time there is no one to find her. They’ve all packed their bags and left her behind – She falls to her knees in the snow, knowing she will die out here alone and –

And then suddenly someone holds her. Arms wrap around her middle, a face tucked into the crook of her neck. And suddenly she’s not in the snow anymore, she’s in a bed, a fire dancing merrily in the grate, the blankets comfortably heavy around her.

As the dream slowly dissolves, she becomes suddenly, acutely aware of the very real arm wrapped around her middle.

Someone was in the bed with her.

Her hand dives underneath the pillow for her knife, only to find it isn’t there. Fear floods suddenly through her, twisting her stomach –

“Shhh, it’s alright. It’s just me.”

She freezes. “ _Cole?_ ”

Or the spirit formally known as Cole.

“Yes.”

His body, cool and soothing as spring rain, lies behind her, holding her up to his chest. If he breathed she would have felt it against her ear.

“What are you doing here?”

She hadn’t seen him in months. The loss of it stings more than she will allow herself. She helped him choose the path back to spirithood – she doesn’t get to be upset when he lives up to his nature.

“You’re hurting,” he says. “I could feel it in the Fade. I wanted to help.”

Of course.

She laughs, the bitterness almost burning her throat. “Unless you can turn back time, there is nothing you can fix.”

“You want someone to touch you, to hold you. I can do that.”

He is doing that and she hates how her body craves it, how it relaxes against him, this strange being who used to be her friend and is now …something beyond attachments entirely.

“That’s not true,” he murmurs against her ear. She shudders ever so slightly. God, she is a mess. “I am very fond of you. I do not like to see your suffering.”

“It’s not suffering – I’m fine. I’m just a little lonely. It’s not –”

“Yes it is,” he say simply and it breaks her a little, this acknowledgement of her turmoil, which she doesn’t have any right to when so many others have suffered so much more.

“ _Empty. Rooms barren, books unread, paintings unfinished, the tavern is so quiet now. No one steals cheese or carves in the stables. They revere you high above them and a touch of a hand would bring you to your knees_.”

She thought she had gotten used to the way he plucked thoughts from her head like ripe fruit, but hearing the echo of her own pain parroted back to her feels like a sucker punch.

His hand strokes over her abdomen, like Dennet soothing one of the mounts. Her every nerve alights in the wake of his touch.

It’s true. If she had been standing, this alone would have brought her to her knees.

Pathetic.

If Bull hadn’t taken off on some mission with his Chargers, she would have marched down into the tavern and crawled in his lap for one of his bear hugs, the ones she hasn’t asked for since he and Dorian started …whatever the hell that was.

She should not be so needy for something so insignificant. She’s the goddamn Inquisitor. She found demons and assassins and Templars. How is something so insignificant as a lack of simple affection fucking her up so bad?

“It’s not insignificant,” he tells her. His hand trails up her stomach and almost brushes the underside of her breast and her heart nearly stops. “Not anymore than sunlight is for a plant. You were not meant for the dark. Let me give you some light.”

He shifts her body so she’s cradled in his arms, cheek resting on his chest. His hand sinks into her hair, his fingers combing idly through the tangled locks. It feels good, _it feels so good_ , the way the hot slide of soup down your throat after a long, cold day feels good.

Cole hums a sound of contentment, his other hand reaching across to run his palm up and down her side. The icy despair that had clenched around her heart slowly melts and soon she falls asleep.

When she wakes up the next morning, feeling more refreshed than she has in months, Cole is gone.

But a cup of her favorite tea sits on the nightstand, still hot.

He doesn’t come every night. But on the days when the weight of her fight with Solas feels like it’s crushing her chest and her world feels empty, Cole slips into her and pulls her body close to his. She’s learned to relax in his arms, even though his body is cool to the touch and his heart does not beat underneath her ear. His hand roams gently over her back, her sides, her stomach, her arms, soothing trails that anchor her until she can breathe easy and sleep.

Though sometimes his fingers brush dangerously close to her breasts or the curve of her ass, Cole touches her with pure, innocent intent. He was right – she _needs_ this, as silly as it may seem, just like she needs food or water or the sun. 

She had never thought about it before. But then again, when had she ever needed to? Certainly not when she could squeeze into Dorian’s chair with him and read, when she could playfully kick Varric under the table during Wicked Grace, when Sera would play with her hair, when Iron Bull would swing her up and crush her to his chest as if she weighed no more than a toddler. 

But her body also has _other_ needs, and spending nights curled up against the solid chest of someone as they touch her with such soft intimacy makes her dream about being touched in _other_ ways, even if that someone is Cole.

It’s mortifying, now, how her heart will speed up when his hands dip low down her back, how she hides a flush into his shoulder and this whole thing is weird enough as it is without adding sex into it. 

Maybe if he had turned more human he might have thought about it. But he was a spirit and Blackwall’s joking questions aside, sex with a spirit probably brought about horrible repercussions.

If Cole reads this from her mind – likely, despite how much she tries to bury it – he says nothing about. Each night his returns surprises her – she almost braces herself for the moment when he stops coming, too uncomfortable with the path her thoughts want to stray into like a stubborn horse.

But he doesn’t leave and she doesn’t know if she should be relieved or not. Tonight, curled up behind her, his hand traces light, nonsensical patterns over her torso and it’s driving her a little mad. 

She thinks, a little desperately, that she should just find someone in the tavern who will fuck her and get this out of her system, even if the idea of letting at total stranger touch her like that feels a little terrifying.

Cole does not help matters, his hands skating lower and lower until they brush against the hem of her smalls. She freezes, barely breathing, waiting for him to pull back up to her stomach.

He does not.

Instead he toys with it, fingers tracing back and forth over the edge.

“What – what are you doing?” she asks, her heart hammering in her chest.

“You want to be touched.” Like it was obvious and oh no. Oh no no.

“Not – not like that.” It comes out strangled.

“Yes you do. I can feel it. Let me help you.” His lips brush against her ear as he speaks, raising the hair down her arms.

His fingers trail over the front her smalls and she should stop him, this isn’t right, he shouldn’t –

“Cole you – you don’t even know what to do.”

“I’m in your mind. If you know what to do, then I know what to do.”

His thumb slides down the length of her slit over the cotton, sending a zing of pleasure that lights up her nerves. She bites back a whine, squirming.

“You don’t – know what you’re – asking for,” she pants as he continues to stroke her.

“You think I’m an innocent. You forget how old I am. How much I’ve seen.”

“It’s not – it’s not right.”

“Why not? I’m offering. All you have to do is accept.”

Then he rubs his heel against her clit as his fingers cup her cunt over her smalls and a small, keening moan spills from her mouth. Fuck, oh fuck, it’s exactly what she’s wanted and _she should not want it._

“Yes, there we go,” he murmurs. “Let me help you. You deserve to feel good after all that you do.”

Her hands scramble on his arm,, digging into the course linen of his sleeve. She originally intended to pull his hand away, but instead her traitorous body clings tighter to him, almost pushing him further against her skin.

“C-Cole – I don’t – this shouldn’t be hap–”

He slips his other arm around her to palm her breast through her nightshirt, his thumb and forefinger pinching lightly at her nipple and it literally takes her breath away. Her head arches up against his shoulder.

“Shhhhh,” he murmurs in her hair. “I know how much you want this. Let me give it to you.”

The overpowering sensation of not only being touched, but this touch, drowns out every rational protest, every shred of her will to fight, if she even had one to begin with. She arcs her back against him as he rubs his hand over her smalls exactly the way she likes it because of course he knows. Just like he knows just how much pressure to put as he squeezes her breasts.

After a two year dry spell, it takes an embarrassingly short time for her to cum, keening and thrashing against his grip that doesn’t falter, even as she sags against him.

“See?” Cole rumbles behind her. “Don’t you feel better?”

The churning waters of her inner self have stilled, a sense of peace washing over her. It felt good. Fuck, it felt good. She didn’t know how much she needed it until now. Even so, guilt rumbles like a storm cloud on the horizon.

She doesn’t even know how to talk about it.

“Cole – I – that was –”

Good. Amazing. _Needed_. And yet wrong and weird, making her feel off kilter. It shouldn’t have happened. And she shouldn’t have liked it.

He brings his fingers to her lips, silencing her.

“Hush. You should sleep now. You need your rest.”

How can she possibly sleep after something like that?

Quiet easily, as it turns out. Cole tells her to sleep and her body obeys.

“Do you know what rape is?”

The question had churned in her mind for the last week. _Did_ Cole understand it? Did what even happen count as rape?

Now she asks him, as he hovers over her in the bed. She’d woken up to the feel of his lips ghosting across her brow, her temple, the shell of her ear. Over the weeks she’s gotten so used to his presence in her bed that it didn’t scare her.

But he’d never kissed her before. It was almost like something from a fairy tale, the first time his lips brushed against hers as sleep slowly faded.

Of course, her body had responded with a surge of want that her mind tried to echo and her heart tried to hold back. She’d pushed him away, fingers digging into his shirt front as if she couldn’t bear to lose him, and asked him that question.

In the dark, she can’t see his reaction. Not that he’s had many emotional reactions since returning to his spirithood.

“Of course I do,” he says, holding perfectly still. “ I would stop if you asked me to.“

"I have asked you to!”

He tilts his head to the side. “When? You’ve said it shouldn’t happen, that you would take advantage of me, that it was wrong. But you have never asked me to stop.”

“I –” words caught in her throat because he was _right._

“Tell me to stop and I will. Right now. I will make you forget everything and I will never touch you again.”

Never touch her again. The thought spears her in the chest like a shard of ice. Cole disappears and then who is left to care about her? Blackwall left to join the Wardens, Varric to Kirkwall, Vivienne to Orlais, Dorian to Tevinter, Sera to her Jennies, Cassandra is Divine, Iron Bull to whatever far flung mission Leliana has sent him on, Cullen to his retirement, Josephine to her family –

The man she thought was Solas is just _gone_.

There is no one left now.

Sensing her despair, Cole captures the hand gripping his shirt and gently pulls it to his lips. He kisses her fingers and her resolve melts. When he leans down to kiss her again, she hesitantly kisses back, despite the bright red flag waving in the rational part of her mind.

It’s been so long since she’s kissed someone. But would Cole even notice her clumsy attempts to kiss him?

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers against her mouth. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

She hesitates longer than she should. “Stop. Please stop, Cole.”

“Not here,” he says, his fingers brushing over her lips. “Here.”

His hand trails down her throat to rest at her chest, just over her heart.

“Tell me to stop _here_.”

Her pulse flutters traitorously underneath his fingers. Her body certainly does not want him to stop but her heart?

It’s an open maw, ready to devour whole any sensation of care, of warmth. As misguided as this is, Cole does none of it for his own gratification – it’s all for her, every moment. And the urge to cling to him, the drink every drop of his attention, overpowers the squirming unease at the thought of him touching her with this kind of intimacy.

“See?” he says, hand sliding down her sternum, resting with heavy intent on her stomach. “You want it. You _crave_ it. So stop fighting it and let me give it to you.”

“You,” she protests weakly, grasping at straws. “What about you? Couldn’t this corrupt you?”

“How could it corrupt me?” His fingers slip underneath her smalls to brush over her clit and a garbled moan hums in her throat. “I’m helping you, the best way you need right now. None of this is for me – it’s all for you. And that’s fulfilling my purpose.”

“Ah – _but-_ -”

The soft slide of his fingers around her clit makes it almost impossible to think straight. She clenches her thighs to fight against the desire to buck into his hand.

“I don’t – want you to touch me if – if you don’t like it.”

“I like to _help_ ,” he says, sounding a tad exasperated and it’s the most emotion she’s heard from him since he went back to spirithood.

He covers her mouth with his, swallowing any further protests as well as her sudden gasps of pleasure as his finger sinks into her.

She arches into him, every nerve lit up and singing as he slowly pumps his long finger in and out of her. His thumb rubs soft circles on her clit with the exact pressure she needs. Her hands scramble against his chest unable to choose between pushing him away and pulling him closer.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispers against her mouth. “If you’re afraid, I’ll feel it. I’ll stop. You can trust me.”

She knows. That’s what made this whole thing so weird, the fact that she knows he’s doing this to help her, that he would never want her frightened or in pain, that if she thought he would hurt her, he would stop. She knows and that’s why he won’t stop, no matter what protest she voices.

He presses sweet kisses down the line of her jaw, then down the side of her neck. His teeth scrape gently over the spot beneath her ear that always makes her shiver and she whimpers. As his mouth travels over her clavicle, his other hand pushes up the hem of her nightshirt until her breasts are exposed to the cool night air.

His lips leave a hot, shivery trail down to her breast before they close around her already stiff peak. She can’t help it – her body bucks up into his hand as he sucks down, the moan spilling from her mouth sounding positively _obscene_.

It’s almost too much, feeling him everywhere – his hand in her cunt, on her other breast, his tongue swiping over her nipple. Her orgasm builds quickly but before it can peak and crest over her, Cole pulls his hand and mouth away.

A frustrated groan vibrates deep in her chest, her body squirming. Now he decides to listen to her?

“Not yet,” he tells her. “There’s something else I want to try.”

He starts tugging her smalls down over her thighs, one hand lifting her hips so he can pull them over her ass. A spike of unease hits her. He’s not going to fuck her, is he? _Can_ he fuck her?

“I could try,” he tells her, sliding her underwear over her legs. “But not tonight.”

Her stomach clenches and squirms at the implication – and then at the feel of Cole’s mouth kissing a path down her sternum, over her stomach.

No. He’s not going to –

A startled gasp echoes in the room as Cole puts his mouth to her clit. Her body instantly responds, goosebumps bursting over her arms. Any lingering protests explode into dust at the flick of his tongue. Her hands sink into his hair, pushing him closer, bucking up into his mouth.

“C-Cole,” she whimpers. “Cole, oh my God. _Oh my God_.”

He hums a noise of contentment before slipping his finger back into her.

It wouldn’t surprise her if the noise that erupts from her scared Leliana’s birds.

Her orgasm sweeps over her, swift and sudden, like a choppy wave in a storm. She shudders and breaks apart under his mouth, her cries echoing off the walls. He licks her sweetly through each little aftershock.

“Okay,” she gasps, unable to take any more. “Okay.”

He pulls away and climbs back up the bed to pull her against his chest. Her heart hammers wildly in her chest. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his fingers sweeping her hair from her face. Of course he would know what that little phrase does to her. 

He cards his fingers through her hair as her pulse gradually slows down. If she closes her eyes she can almost imagine this as a moment between her and someone real, someone normal and alive. Someone who could love her.

“How long are you going to help me?” she asks. 

“Until you no longer need it,” he tells her. “Until I stop feeling the ache of your suffering shake the Fade.”

“Is it really that bad?”

He pauses. “Perhaps I notice it more because we are friends. I cannot bear it. And neither should you.” 

His thumb sweeps over her cheek. “Are you going to fight against what you need every single time?”

Is there a point in trying to stop him anymore? Short of attacking him, which she could never bring herself to do? 

He is relentless in his determination to care for her. And it’s exhausting trying to stave off something she craves with her whole being. 

“Will you listen to me if I get freaked out?” she asks. 

“I’m always listening to you – just not necessarily to your words. You are safe with me.”

She sighs and presses her face into the crook of his neck.

“I know,” she whispers. “I know.”


	2. Chapter 2

It haunts her, that moment when she thought he had planned to fuck her: in the middle of reports, answering letters, studying map after map, looking for Solas. She wonders how he’d do it, what it would feel like, if it was even possible. 

If the thought of it would disgust him. 

If the thought of it disgusts her or not. 

Cole does not leave her to contemplate for long. His hands ghost over hers as she’s undressing for her bath that night, deftly undoing the buttons on her shirt. Josephine had several tailored with buttons easily done or undone one handed. Apparently, between the blight, the Mage/Templar war, and the Breach, the demand for such clothing has risen exponentially. She’s more than capable of finishing this task on her own and yet her fingers still and allow his to take over.

Still, feeling his cool body at her back and watching his fingers unveil her skin one button at a time sends a swooping feeling in her gut. A shiver ripples through her as he gently pulls her shirt over her shoulders and down her arms, leaving her in just her breast band. Her skin prickles in the cool air.

Cole’s hands slide softly over her tummy until his fingers brush against the hem of her pants. Then he begins to undo those buttons too. Instinctively her hands jerk over to them, gripping his fingers to still them. Maker’s balls, he hasn’t even spoken to her yet and already he’s undressing her. 

“It’s alright,” Cole murmurs against her hair. “I’m helping you get ready.”

“I can do it myself,” she insists. 

“Yes, but this feels better, having someone else take care of you.”

It does. He’s right and she wants to hate him for it. Instead she lets him peel off her smalls and guide her, shivering, to the hot bath that awaits her in front of the fireplace. A hot flare of embarrassment stains her cheeks, but it’s not like Cole hasn’t seen or touched her naked body before. 

And isn’t that weird statement to be able to make?

Like a gentleman, he helps her into the tub with a steady grip. The warmth of the water, still hot from magic, sinks through her pores and into her very bones. She sinks down in the tub and ducks her head under, her cold face tingling in the heat of the water. 

A memory, bright and painful, like an ice pick, flares up. Her mother, washing her hair and humming, using lavender scented soap. Maker, how long was that -- fifteen years? Twenty?

When she surfaces again, Cole is kneeling at the front of the tub, right next to her face. He holds up a glass bottle of whatever fancy shampoo Josephine shipped from Antiva.

“Tilt your head back,” he murmurs and she complies. 

Honestly, she’s curious to see if he even knows what he’s doing. His fingers sink into her hair, massaging the shampoo into her scalp and at first it’s stiff and awkward. But then he gets the hang of it, nails scraping lightly on her scalp and her eyes flutter closed. 

The weight of her life dissipates underneath the soothing massage of his fingers. She’s so relaxed that she doesn’t even flinch when he gently pushes her down into the water to rinse out the shampoo. When she surfaces again, he already has the washcloth foamy with the Orlesian soap Leliana smuggles for her. 

“May I?” he asks, holding up the washcloth.

She’s so taken aback by the fact that he’s  _ asking _ her anything that she stares at him a moment before faintly nodding and standing up. What little extra height the stubby legs of the tub gives her puts her roughy at eye level with Cole. Water sluices down between her breasts but his eyes stay on hers, their bright blue gaze heavy with the ages. 

They are close enough to kiss. 

One cool hand descends on her shoulder, holding her in place, while the other drags the washcloth over her clavicle. 

Something about the feel of the coarse washcloth gliding over her skin soothes her. She almost finds herself nodding off as Cole dips the cloth between her breasts and them over them, sliding down her stomach. He veers off just before he reaches the curls between her thighs, soaping her hip before gently turning her around. 

The nerves of her back clench and shiver as the washcloth slowly drags up her spine. Cole soaps every inch of her shoulders and back with slow, loving care before making his way back down. His pace doesn’t miss a beat as he brushes over her ass, long legs bending down to soap the back of her thighs and calves. It’s only when he travels back up, over her knees, that he nudges her thighs apart. 

Her gasp echoes around then as the cloth swipes deliberately over the slit of her cunt. Her hands jerk to catch his, but he evades her grip, sliding back up to her stomach before pulling away. 

By now she’s shivering from both the cold air and the aftermath of his touch. Cole gently guides her back into the water to rinse and she lets him, grateful to have the warm water slosh over her. 

“Cole -- thank y--”

When she looks back over, Cole is gone, the room empty. It’s almost like she dreamed him. Maybe she did dream him. Maybe she’s going crazy, imaging Cole touching her. As if a spirit -- no matter how compassionate -- would ever stoop that low to help her. 

For a moment she sits in her rapidly cooling bath, fighting tears at the thought that maybe she has gone completely mad, making up vivid fantasies of her spirit friend of all people going down on her, fucking her, washing her hair with the kind of sweet intimacy she craves the way a templar needs lyrium --

“You are not mad. And you have not dreamed me.”

Cole reappears, a long fluffy towel clutched in his hands. He holds it out and she jerks up from her bath so quickly the water sloshes over the edge of the tub and onto the stone floor. 

The towel is big enough to wrap around her completely. Cole swaddles her up in it and guides her to stand by the edge of her bed. She feels a bit foolish, like a child, as he turns down the covers. She rubs the towel through her wet hair as she waits for him to ready the bed. 

“Here,” he says, motioning to the blankets and she does not need further invitation to drape the towel over her pillows and crawl inside the blankets. 

To her surprise (and pathetic relief), Cole climbs in after her. She pulls up the covers around them as he cradles her to his chest. Though no heart beats underneath her ear, the way he strokes her up and down her spine soothes her all the same. 

In fact, between the bath and the cuddling, this whole night has felt strangely intimate in a way she didn’t know she needed. The intimacy of fondness, of care. 

“I  _ am _ fond of you,” he murmurs into her hair. “You are special to me. You took care of me when I was alone. I only want to repay you in kind.”

She swallows the sudden lump in her throat. It’s selfish and cruel and completely immature to feel as if everyone else abandoned her. She has no home to return to and it’s no one’s fault, it just is. But it stings, every time she gets a package from Josie in Antiva, Varric in Kirkwall, Dorian in Tevinter… that they have a home and she does not.

As strange and uncomfortable as her recent encounters with Cole have gone… he’s the only one who has not left her, who cares that she’s sad, that the weight of her grief feels too heavy to bear. 

She lifts her head up and kisses him sweetly on his mouth. Just once. Just to show how grateful she is that someone notices her.

She doesn’t expect him to return the kiss, to cup her face when she tries to pull away and chase her lips with his. To capture her mouth in another kiss, tongue dancing on the seam of her lips. 

But he does. His fingers sink into her hair, pulling her closer. It’s not a desperate clash of mouths, but a deep and slow plunder. He kisses her the exact way she has dreamed about because of course he does. 

And she melts into it because of course she does. How could she resist a kiss like that? They kiss with aching intensity, tongue swiping in her mouth, teeth nibbling on her lower lip. Fingers sinking through her hair, dragging down her spine.

A slow and steady flame banks within her, burning away the shivering cold of her damp hair and drafty room. Her heart beats like a drum in her chest, her arousal tightening in her gut. Unthinkingly, her hips buck up against his thigh and it barely even registers as he sucks on her tongue and she moans in his mouth -- she hasn’t been fucked in so long, in  _ years _ even and she wants it so much and--

And suddenly she finds herself flipped on her back, head bouncing on the pillows, Cole slotting his hips in between her thighs. Before she can even process what’s happening, he grinds up against her, something hard and long and  _ not _ a hipbone presses right against her clit --

Reality sinks in like a splash of ice water.

Her hand jerks forward, pushing up against his chest, desperate to make space between them. 

“Cole -- stop -- hold -- hold  _ on. _ ”

Words tangle together in the sudden panic. 

He’s hard for her. Cole. Hard. Like a human, except he’s  _ not _ . Did he make himself this way for her? Isn’t this a gross violation of his spiritual existence? 

“It’s alright,” he murmurs to her. “This is for you. It's not going to hurt me.”

Holy shit, he’s actually serious. One random thought plucked from her mind and now he thinks she wants him to fuck her. 

“No! No no, please -- I can’t --  _ you _ can’t --”

“I can,” he says and he almost sounds smug about it. “And so can you.”

“I don’t -- want it.” The lie sits heavy on her tongue. 

He spots it instantly. “Yes you do.”

His hand brushes up her thigh, skirting close to their apex, and her body shivers in response. 

Goddamn him. 

“It’s dangerous,” she insists, grasping the worry like a lifeline. 

“The only thing that will happen is your pleasure --” he presses a soft kiss at her temple -- “and my satisfaction at your pleasure.”

He sounds sure of himself, but she remains unconvinced. Even as he leans down to kiss her sweetly against her mouth, her lips remain still under his, paralyzed by her indecision. It does not discourage him -- he kisses a trail down her jawline to her ear, nipping at the shell of it before continuing down her neck. 

Even if she’s given in to his mad stubborn desire to help her, she still hasn’t decided if she wants this, if she even likes it. 

Cole’s hips roll against hers once more, drawing a startled gasp from her. 

Well -- she likes it now, in the moment. It’s the aftermath that leaves her stomach twisting with unease. 

What if he fucks her and she hates it and he doesn’t stop? What if he fucks her and she  _ doesn’t  _ want him to stop? ( _ Sweet fucking Maker, could he get her  _ pregnant?)

For all his reassurances, what if it does corrupt him? What if he turns into a desire demon right in her bed? Would she have to kill him? Would he kill her? 

This whole thing is collosssally stupid. It could backfire in so many ways. She should put a stop to it and  _ mean it.  _

And instead her mind tortures her with thoughts of him. It’s part morbid curiosity and part desperate need and she hates this whole fucked up situation. 

But the thought of being left alone like before feels more unbearable than any worst case scenario she can dream up and doesn’t that make her the most selfish person in Thedas?

She’s caught up in her worries that she barely registers Cole pulling away and studying her.

"You are thinking too much," he admonishes. Her attention snaps to him in a startled flick of her eyes. 

"You worry too much. The weight is so heavy to carry, even in here when it shouldn’t be. You protest because you feel like you should. I think I know how to fix that."

She does  _ not _ like the sound of that. Her hands dig into his shirt.

“Cole -- what are you --”

He slips from her grasp like water, melting into the deep shadows thrown by the fireplace. She nearly scrambles after him before she remembers her distinct lack of clothing. By the time she’d get dressed he would be back. The fireplace crackles, the only sound to break the sudden, empty silence besides her own staggered breathing. 

For a moment she thinks of running. But where could she go? There’s not a corner of this fortress where he wouldn’t find her and she wouldn’t make it halfway through the courtyard before he caught up. 

And who could she talk to? Very few people understood or accepted Cole during their years against Corypheus and they have all gone. What remains would assume him a demon already, and her potentially possessed for allowing this to continue and it would spiral into a huge problem. She’s got enough of those as it is. 

Besides, he’s not hurting her. He’s insistent on doing the opposite, in fact. She can’t stomach the thought of his automatic condemnation from people who wouldn’t understand what he’s willing to do for her. 

She presses her face against her knees. If she wasn’t such a pathetic, useless idiot none of this would be happening. Now she doesn’t know what to do -- he won’t listen to her and that’s because part of her doesn’t want him to. It’s a mess of her own creation.

A hand pushes her hair away from her face, tucking it gently behind one ear before gliding down her jawline to tug her chin up away from her knees. Cole kneels on the bed before her, no footsteps, not even the creaking of the door to betray his return. 

His eyes are so kind, so stupidly kind, that it breaks her heart a little. 

“You are not pathetic,” he says softly. “And this is not a mess. You always feel better when I’m done and that is all I desire. That is my purpose.”

“Cole ... this is not a good idea,” she whispers. 

The corner of his mouth curves up in a tiny smile, the first she’s seen from him since he reclaimed his spirithood.

“You are still trying to protect me, to care for me,” he says. “And now I will return the favor.”

He leans forward and kisses her with all the slow intensity from before. His body cages her, hands gently pulling apart her knees so he can slide in between them. She finds herself gradually pressed into the bed, until they’ve returned to the exact position they were in when he left. The hard length of him presses back up against her, sparking a faint pleasure that leaves her aching for more and hating herself for it. 

This time he takes her hand and pulls it up over her head, until it brushes the dark wood of her headboard. His lips travel down her neck, pressing soft kisses and nips that send goosebumps down her arm and it’s almost enough to distract her from the feel of ropes winding around her wrist. 

Almost.

She jerks against his hold, heart rate jackrabbiting up when she finds he’s solid enough to hold her down by the weight of his body alone. 

“Cole --”

With quick, light fingers he binds together while she thrashes ineffectually against him, her forearm pressed against his unyielding chest. Then he anchors the rope to the curling woodwork of the headboard. 

She yanks hard on the rope but the knots stay firm -- not so tight that it hurts, but she will never free herself without his help. Even with her other arm free, without her hand, there is little she can do against him. 

_ You protest because you feel like you should. I think I know how to fix that _ . 

Now she has no option but to take whatever he plans to do to her -- not that she had an option really before but now she’s lost the  _ illusion  _ of control, of the ability to fight back, and she didn’t know how much she wanted that until he took it from her. 

The low hum of unease spikes quickly into terror, sending her bucking thrashing against him in an attempt to shake him off of her. Tears of panic prick at the corner of her eyes. 

He said he would listen to her -- is he listening  _ now _ ?

Cole unhooks the rope from the headboard, allowing her to yank her hand down and brace it against his chest. He allows her to push him away enough to create space between their bodies.

“Shhhh, it’s alright,” he murmurs, thumb swiping over the tear that had slipped. "I’m listening. Don’t be afraid. I’m listening.”

“What were you  _ doing _ ?” she chokes out. 

His fingers sink into her hairline, brushing the drying strands from her face and stroking her, almost like a cat. 

“This way you don't have to think,” he says. “I know you wanted to try this before."

Yeah -- with  _ Bull _ . With someone who knew what the hell he was doing, who didn't just spring it on her --

"Your mind is not the only one I've been in," he says. "I will take good care of you. Nothing is going to hurt. You don’t need to be afraid.”

He kisses so gently, so softly, down her jaw to her lips, his fingers scraping lightly over her scalp. 

"Stop thinking and just feel," he says against her mouth. "Let me take care of you."

_ Are you going to fight against what you need every single time? _

The need for his reassurance battles with the lingering doubts still sinking its claws in her. Cole waits her out, stroking her hair, peppering her cheek, her jaw, her neck with tender kisses that rekindle the spark of her desire. 

Gradually her heart rate calms down, the terror melting away in the face of his soothing touches. This is not a good idea, no matter what his reassurances may be, but she doesn’t have the stamina to keep fighting it either. It’s bad enough to fend off Cole’s stubborn insistence on  _ helping _ \-- she can’t fight her own desires with it. 

“Okay,” she says, swallowing. “You can -- it’s okay.”

His fingers brush over her chest, just above her thudding heart. “I won’t do it if you don’t trust me. I don’t want you afraid.”

“I trust you.”

If she didn’t trust Cole, she would have never let him run free in the Inquisition. It never occurred to her to be afraid of him, much to Vivienne’s exasperation. And she’s not afraid of his intentions now . . .just the unintended consequences of them. 

Part of the reason why she encouraged Cole to return to his spirithood was the fear that his deep desire to help and be accepted would blind him to the consequences of his decisions. Solas didn’t want Cole to change his entire being in order to suit everyone else’s comfort and neither did she. 

Now it feels like they’ve circled back to that same worry. What is Cole willinging to risk in himself just to give her relief she could live without?

He presses a light kiss to her lips. 

“You’re worrying again. Let's see if I can keep you from thought.”

A thrill of both unease and anticipation flutters in her chest. She allows Cole to pull her hand back up over her head and fasten it to the headboard. He loops another rope firmly around her other forearm before securing to the headboard as well. 

She gives an experimental tug -- no quarter. Tied with both arms raised on either side of her head, she has only her legs to defend her, but the thought no longer frightens her. 

In fact, she’s starting to look forward to the prospect of not thinking. 

Cole wastes no time after tying her down to kiss her again, this time with a hunger and intensity that leaves no room for thought. He cradles her face as his tongue slides against hers, as his teeth tug and nip at her bottom lip.

His other hand snakes down her neck to caress her breasts, giving sharp and sudden pinches at her nipples that make her hips thrust needily up against him. The rough drag of his trousers against her bare and slick skin sends delicious sparks of pleasure through her. 

Soon his mouth follows, sucking marks into her neck, teeth scraping across her pulse until he latches onto her breast, tongue flicking over her nipple. 

_ “Cole _ !” she cries, fingers scrabbling over the wood of the headboard. 

Arousal, hot and electric, throbs in her core, zinging through her nerves. Its light blots every dark thought she's had tonight, every trace of fear and unease until nothing remains but the desperate desire to be touched -- everywhere. Anywhere. In any way.

Cole slips his hand between them, skating over her thigh to touch her clit. She's so wet his finger strokes her easily between her folds. 

The moan that burst from her echoes obscenely against the walls, tangling with the creak of the headboard as her hand instinctively tries to clutch his shoulder.

"Cole --" she gasps. " _ Please _ ."

She's not even sure what she's asking for, but Cole brings his lips back up to kiss the shell of her ear.

"Yes. Yes, of course." 

The mattress dips as he pulls himself away from her and slides off the bed. The pillar and hanging curtains hide his form from her but the rustle of fabric informs her exactly of what he's doing. A tendril of disquiet slices through the arousal.

This is happening. This is really happening. Cole --  _ Cole, a spirit--  _ is going to fuck her while she's tied down and completely at his mercy and does he even know what he's doing --

"I know enough," comes his voice, sounding almost amused.

The bed creaks again under his weight as he returns, body completely naked and almost glowing in the dim light of the dying fire. 

_ This is it _ she thinks as he crawls back in between her thighs.  _ This is now or never, your last chance to stop, there's no going back after this --  _

But the thread of her unease tangles in the brightness of her arousal, feeding into it, until it becomes something else that tightens the desire in her --

Cole slowly but unrelentingly slips into her, driving every thought from her head, driving the breath from her lungs. It's been so long her body tenses up at the intrusion. Her heels dig into the mattress as her thighs squeeze against him, panic fluttering in her chest.

"It's alright," he murmurs, the pads of his fingers stroking up and down her side. "I've got you. I won't hurt you."

She squeezes her eyes shut, taking deep breaths, as he fills her completely. He stops the moment he hilts fully inside her, giving her time to adjust. 

It's both a satisfaction and an ache, too much and not enough. She wants more, she's afraid of more. Cole bends down and distracts her with sweet kisses as he slowly slides back out. 

The second slow thrust into her body goes easier, her body adjusted and starting to crave it. By the third time, her hips roll up to meet him, desperate for more.

Cole himself is almost completely silent.

"Are you -- are you okay with this?" she asks, suddenly self conscious.

Does he think this disgusting, having to touch her body with his? What if  _ he's  _ the uncomfortable one, finally experiencing the reality of his plans for her only to find it horrifying and --

A sharp thrust of his hips stutters her thoughts in their tracks.

"Nothing about you disgusts me," he murmurs, hand slipping down to grip her upper thigh. "It's time for you to stop thinking."

And that's the only warning she gets before Cole holds her down and fucks her hard enough to make the bed shake. Pleasure fizzles through in her, bright and hot, as he drives relentlessly into her. Her legs wrap around the back of his thighs, pulling him closer the way her arms long to do. 

He doesn't gasp or moan the way she does, his breath does not stutter and hitch like hers. But he kisses and bites her neck as if he wants to devour her, plasters his body against hers with each sharp roll of his hips as if he needs to feel every inch of her, as if she might be the one who disappears. Eventually he gathers her up in his arms pulling her body up from the mattress and sinking deeper into her. 

Her orgasm builds swiftly after that, helped along by the marks he leaves on her neck, before it crests over her. She cums with Cole's name echoing against the walls, Cole's body pressed up against her, not a breath of air between them, and Cole's voice against her throat.

"Yes,  _ yes _ . There you go. Such a good girl. I told you I would take care of you."

It takes several moments to come back down. Her mind feels floaty and deliciously empty, her body boneless in relief.

Cole slowly pulls out, presses a kiss to her forehead, before slipping back off the bed.

She doesn't even have the energy to panic at the idea of being left tied to the bed. And she didn't need to. Her chest of drawers creaks open and she hears the rustle of clothes as he rummages around.

In just a few minutes he returns, fully dressed, and holding her pajamas.

He leans forward and untied her limbs from the bed before helping her dress for bed. She can usually handle her outfits two handed but it goes so much faster with the extra help that she doesn’t protest. 

Then he picks up the brush he took from her vanity and sits cross legged behind her to brush out the tangles of her hair in soft strokes.

All the emotions twisting and tangling in her chest have disappeared. Peace breaks though the clouds of her disquiet like morning sun.

Why did she fight this so much? This is the best she's felt in months and nothing horrible happened in exchange. ( _ At least not yet).  _ And he listened, just the way he promised. If she doesn’t think about this too hard, it's the best thing that’s happened to her in a long time. 

But only if she doesn’t think too hard. 

"Thank you," she tells him and the words cannot do justice to the depth of her feelings. "I did need it… I'm sorry I fought you so much."

"Don't apologize for your fear. I was hasty, I pushed for too much, too soon. And there is no precedent for a situation like ours."

"... doing that truly didn't bother you?"

She has to ask. Even if the answer might upset her, now that the moment is over.

"No. In fact… " The brush stills in his hands. "Being with you makes me wish sometimes that I had chosen to become human instead."

_ That _ revelation makes her turn around to face him. For the first time, his eyes look at her with uncertainty.

"I have been wondering if I could try again," he adds.

The confession stuns her. "Because of me?"

"No spirit has ever done what I did. And so no spirit has ever had friends like I did. And you… you are different. I am not sure why. But part of me wants to find out."

To her embarrassment, her eyes start to water. Everyone has left her for their own lives and yet he wants to leave his to be with her.

Because she matters that much.

Because she matters.

"Of course you matter. Even to those who had to leave," he says brushing the back of his fingers across her cheek.

"It doesn't feel that way sometimes," she admits.

"I know. That's why I am here." 

She nods and decides to leave his confession where it lays between them. It's only a niggling wonder right now, not something he would act on or that she even wants him to act on. But the fact that part of him wants it… that's enough. At least for tonight.

"Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

"Of course."

He climbs under the blankets with her again, holding her close to his chest, his hands stroking down her spine in the way she loves. 

She falls asleep in his arms and does not dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think i will have one more chapter for this fic! Thank you for all the positive feedback chapter 1 got!
> 
> And just for the record, even though this ends on a sweet note, this is not the best or healthiest relationship, lol. And I don't condone dub con like this in a real relationship.

**Author's Note:**

> Things can get even more smuttier if anybody wants it! Let me know in the comments!


End file.
